


Shadows of Things That May Be Only

by radondoran



Category: Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated (TV 2010)
Genre: Canon Related, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 15:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radondoran/pseuds/radondoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaggy's terrified, and destiny isn't something you can run away from.</p>
<p>Takes place after "Theater of Doom".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows of Things That May Be Only

Velma groped on the nightstand for her glasses, put them on, and looked at the caller ID on her cell phone. She sighed and picked it up.

"It's five o'clock in the morning, Shaggy," she said. "This better be good."

"Velma!" came his voice in her ear. "Like thank goodness you're awake. Can I come in?"

Velma was about to object that she hadn't, in fact, been awake until he had called, but instead she seized on the more salient issue. "Come in? Where _are_ you?"

"Like, um..." He laughed nervously. Velma got out of bed and looked out the window. Shaggy, cell phone in hand, practically had his face pressed against the glass. He flashed her a dorky grin and wiggled his fingers in a tentative wave.

"Oy." Velma pushed her glasses up her nose. But Shaggy was her friend, and she couldn't turn him out into the cold. "Come around the front," she told him. "My mom will freak if she finds you in here."

"Thanks." Shaggy vanished from the window.

Velma pulled a fuzzy bathrobe over her pajamas and headed to the front door.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper as she let Shaggy in and led him to the kitchen.

"Like, I wanted to talk to somebody," Shaggy whispered back. "I couldn't sleep."

Velma rolled her eyes. "Too much pizza before bed?"

"This is serious, Velma! Like, I keep having these really scary nightmares."

"So why come here? Can't you just get Scooby to sing you a lullaby or something?"

"Uh-uh. The nightmares are about Scoob."

"Oh," said Velma, softening. "You're still thinking about what Friar Sera told us, huh?"

They entered the kitchen, and Velma flipped on the lights. Shaggy, she noticed, was suffering from major bedhead--apparently he hadn't taken the time to groom before throwing on his clothes and walking over here. He looked pale, and the bags under his eyes were heavier than usual. He really hadn't slept. But more than that, he looked scared. Velma had seen Shaggy scared before, more times than she could count, but this seemed different--the deep fear in his eyes was more than the simple shock of a monster jumping out at him. "Yeah," he said.

"It's going to be okay, Shaggy. Sit down. You want some breakfast? There's doughnuts in the fridge."

Shaggy sat down at the table, crossed his arms and leaned on his elbows. "It's all right," he said. "Like, I'm not really that hungry right now."

Jinkies, Velma thought. He really was serious. "At least have a cup of coffee--you look like you could use it." She poured water into the Keurig and waited for it to heat up. "You don't have to worry about Friar Sera," she said. It wasn't true; she was worried about his warning herself. But she could honestly reassure Shaggy on one point: "If anybody, or anything, tries to hurt Scooby, they're going to have to go through all of us."

"I know," said Shaggy dully. "Like that's not what I'm worried about."

Velma loaded a mocha--Shaggy's favorite--into the machine and took a coffee cup from the cabinet. "I thought you said you were having nightmares about what Friar Sera told us. 'The dog dies'?"

Shaggy shook his head. "I didn't dream that Scoob died. It was, like, um--like, it was kind of worse than that."

"What do you mean?"

"I kept dreaming that--that he was trying to kill me!"

" _Scooby_?" Velma couldn't hide her surprise. It was hard to think of anyone who was less of a killer--or anyone who was less likely to hurt Shaggy, of all people.

"I know, I know, it doesn't make any sense!" Shaggy ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "But that's what that mummy dude said, right? 'It begins with the animal, always'. Well, that's Scoob! Like, what if we end up like all the other mystery-solving groups? What if Scooby-Doo betrays us like--like the others? I mean, face it, it's like, our fate or something, isn't it?"

Velma pushed the button and watched the cup fill with sweetened coffee. "Scooby is not Porto," she said firmly. "I think his acting skills made that perfectly clear." She walked over, set the coffee on the table in front of Shaggy, and put a hand on his bony shoulder. "Here, drink this."

"Thanks." His hands trembled as he raised the cup to his lips. He flinched and almost dropped it. "Hot," he explained.

"Yes, coffee tends to be hot." Velma went back to make herself a cup. "Listen, even if there is some kind of curse--"

" _If_? Like, Velma, we saw a talking ghost mummy! A _real_ talking ghost mummy! This is, like, some seriously serious stuff!"

"I agree," said Velma. "But that's no reason to resign ourselves to repeating history."

"But you're the one that keeps saying it, aren't you? 'This has all happened before.'" He shivered. "Like, I'm scared," he said, crossing his arms tight again and staring down hollow-eyed at his coffee. "I'm really, really scared, and, like--like, this isn't something I can run away from. This is way bigger than any of us."

Velma sat down opposite him with her own cup. "It's okay," she began, not knowing what else to say.

"It's not, though! Is it, Velma? That's why I came here--because you know more than any of us about the other mystery-solving groups. Like they all ended badly, didn't they?"

"Well, yes," Velma admitted. "But listen up. I've done research on the other mystery-solving groups. I know about what happened in the past, but I also know about us--you, me, Scooby, Fred and Daphne. I believe in Scooby. I believe in all of you. Whatever this thing is, we can beat it. Fate has never had to deal with Mystery Incorporated."

She caught her mistake too late. "With us," she corrected herself, but Shaggy had heard it too.

"Like poor choice of words," he said with a shudder.

"Wait, is that what you're worried about?" Velma asked. "Shaggy, Scooby is nothing like Pericles. You know that better than anyone. We don't have to end up like the original Mystery Incorporated."

"But, like," said Shaggy in a small voice, "we're already so much like they were."

Velma looked at him curiously. "It's not just Scooby you're scared about," she said, "is it?"

"Well, like--like, Fred said it himself, those kids were just like us. And it kinda seems like each one of us is just like one of them. Like when Danny Darrow thought we were them--like, you're Cassidy Williams."

Velma started to object--she didn't know whether to feel honored or insulted. But Shaggy cut her off:

"Angel--Cassidy--she was the smart one. And she was strong and brave, too--just like you, Velm. And like Fred and Daphne are Brad and Judy, obviously. So that just leaves..."

"Ricky Owens," Velma finished.

"Mr. E," Shaggy confirmed.

And Velma suddenly understood. "Oh, Shaggy," she said, in a sudden access of compassion. "You're not like Mr. E!"

"Yeah, but, like, dude, I don't think Ricky was either! Like this whole cursed treasure thing made him what he is, and I'm scared it's gonna do the same thing to me."

"It won't," said Velma. "You're stronger than that."

"Like how do you know?" asked Shaggy, his voice cracking with desperation. "Like, I know I'm not very brave. I'm not smart like you, and I'm not, like, really good with people either. How am I supposed to fight fate? How can you be sure I won't turn into the next Mr. E? Besides, like--like, if anything happened to Scoob, I don't know who I'd be."

Shaggy picked up his mocha and drained it in a few gulps. Velma followed suit with a long sip of coffee, trying to think of what she could say.

"Maybe we can't be sure," she mused aloud.

"What?!" Shaggy stared at her wild-eyed. "Like you're giving up on me?"

"No! I was saying--maybe we can't be sure about anything right now. There's still a lot we don't know about all this. But," Velma stressed, leaning across the table towards Shaggy, "I believe in the new Mystery Incorporated. The five of us have been through a lot together this year, and we always come out stronger than before."

Shaggy looked doubtful.

"Eventually," Velma conceded. "Listen, you want to know what I think? I think the best thing we can do right now is to trust ourselves, trust each other and work together to solve this mystery once and for all. I mean, we're the best at solving mysteries. I think we can do it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Does that help?"

"Like, yeah. A little. Thanks." He stood up. "And like, thanks for the coffee."

"Any time. But you know, next time you have nightmares, you should really talk to Scooby."

"I know," Shaggy said. "I guess I just kind of, like, freaked out. Sorry." He scratched his head nervously. "Like, I should probably get home. Scoob'll be worried about me."

"You should get back to him," Velma agreed as they walked back towards the front door. "Oh, and Shaggy? Don't tell anyone I told you this, but you're braver than you think."

Shaggy laughed. "Like if you say so," he said, unconvinced. But at least he was smiling. "Good night, Velma."

"Good morning," Velma countered, and shut the door behind him in the graying light of dawn.


End file.
